


Fake Vows | k.ji

by isearchedtheyooniverse



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, f(x), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS, 소녀시대 | Girls' Generation | SNSD
Genre: Multi, Top Kim Jongin | Kai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-05-29 16:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isearchedtheyooniverse/pseuds/isearchedtheyooniverse
Summary: At the young and ripe age of 20, you have no choice but to enter into marriage with the son of your father’s best friend, Kim Jongin, a wealthy and powerful lawyer. Against your will, you find yourself falling for the guy you oh so hated. You don’t have good memories with him, or any memories with him to begin with, so what do you do when you’re forced into marriage with the most attractive guy ever to breathe on earth?





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
> Some curse words here and there. No explicit scenes as of now.  
> One of my unifinished works, I hope I can finish this properly. Please take care of me :)

“Me? Marry Kim Jongin?” you nearly screamed, before being slapped on the arm by your mother, recognizing the menacing stare she shot at you. The pain didn’t even bother you. “OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

Your eyes fleet over to where your father sat fully dressed for work, calmly having his breakfast consisting of eggs and toast. “Y/N, don’t be so loud. It’s still early, and I don’t want to hear neighbors’ complaints yet.”

A piece of paper was slapped down in front of you, right next to your own plate. 

Goddammit, you think, scowling. Did they have to sign a fucking agreement with his parents? Your hands gripped the flimsy thing so tight you nearly crushed it to a ball.  
It deserved to be burnt. But your parents probably had a copy of it stashed somewhere. You knew them too well.

You looked up from reading the paper only to lock your eyes straight with your mother, standing across from you on the other side of the kitchen island. Inhaling deeply, you set the paper down, and folded your hands across your chest.

“I’m not doing it,” you reply, dead seriously as you look at your mother.

Hopefully being calm would make her change her mind and drop the whole subject.

She didn’t. “Y/N, don’t you dare start again,” She said casually, sipping from her daily cup of coffee. “This is your dad’s wish.”

Clearly being calm didn’t work.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” you shouted. Your mother didn’t even flinch at your harsh tone. “I’m not getting married to some stranger! I’m still 19! A freaking teenager!”

An arranged marriage was not how you thought you’d end up with a family. No way in hell were you going to comply.

How is it possible to get married to someone you didn’t even know to share the rest of your life with?

Your mother’s only reply was, “You’re 20. And he’s not a stranger. We know the Kim’s very well.”

“In a month’s time, yes.” you scoffed. “I don’t care. I. Am. Not. Getting. Married. Period!” You hoped to God that your mother would understand with each word.

She didn’t.

“Y/N,” you turn around when your father’s voice broke the silent staring game between you and your mother. “This has been planned for a long time, to bring both us and the Kim’s together.” You recognize his tone, the one he used at when he was at work. “The least you could do is accept this.”

A loud groan escapes your lips as you lay your head on the table. No. You were still 19. No right-minded parents would let their teenage daughter through something like this! Were they blind to all the plans you had set up for your future?!

You wished you could sucker-punch whoever who invented arranged marriages.

Sure, you knew that your dad was best friends with Mr. Kim since their high school days, but that doesn’t just give him the right to marry you off to their son!

It made you think really hard to when you first saw Kim Jongin, years ago, back when the two of you were about 8 years old. The guy was obsessed with football, and he spent more time with your dad playing football more than the time you got to spend with your dad.

You recall low-key being jealous that he stole your dad. You did know that your dad wanted another son besides your brother.

Even though your dad was just doing a favor coaching the junior soccer team at the school both your brother Taemin and Jongin went to. And you hated soccer after that one incident when that dumb nerd Namjoon kicked a ball right into your face and broke one of your teeth.

Besides, you hated Jongin from your gut for being a total bully during your middle-school years. The accident had left you with a scar on your face that a lot of kids made fun of, Jongin being the main catalyst.

You just had bad memories associated with the guy.

How would he be now, as a grownup? A pervert? Hairy? An emotionless robot like when he was a kid?

What were your parents thinking to marry you off to a perverted, hairy emotionless robot?

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t any of those things now. People can change over the years. Look at your own self. You used to want to get married to your prince charming and live happily ever after. 

Now your parents were pushing you to marry some guy you saw maybe once or twice as a kid.

No one would be too happy about this whole thing either- that is, if they were in your shoes.

“If you wanna join our families,” you say, “Why can’t Taemin marry one of the sisters?” Hopefully throwing your own brother under the marriage bus would work.

Your father shoots you an obvious look at the mention of your brother. “Y/N, you were at both of the Kim’s daughters’ weddings. For just the ceremony, but you were there.” He says. “Come to think of it, that was quite a rude thing you did, running off to work both times.”

Crap. How could you forget?

“PLEASE, I beg of you, please think this through,” the whine was inevitable in your words. You were practically ready to get down on your knees and even kiss her feet just to turn this whole idea around. “What–– what if he’s like, a rapist or something? What if he hates me so much that he’ll kill me or even worse, bury me alive?”

Your own words scared the crap out of you. What if he was like that? 

No. No way in hell were you going to comply. It scared you too much.

Now it was your mother’s turn to scoff. “Y/N, just because you didn’t like to come with us whenever they invited us over doesn’t mean your father and I haven’t seen him. We’ve seen him now, he has grown up to be a wonderful man. I know for a fact you’re going to love him.” She winked. “He looks like a model. Like Channing Tatum.”

Yes, you and your mother had a thing for Channing. It made your mind drift off for a second. Maybe he grew up to be a good guy?

“Also,” your father spoke up from beside you. “He’s going to be the head of the Kim’s’ law firm. Google him if you want. Jongin is a fantastic boy.” A smile was on his face, and you scowled.

“You’re just trying to marry me off to this bloke ‘cause y’all wanted another son,” you say, ignoring your mother’s gasp, pointing your finger at the two of them. “I’ve heard both of you say it!”

“Just Google him. We know what’s best for you.” your father doesn’t even bother looking up from his phone screen, probably reading the news.

You roll your eyes so hard, you probably saw the back of your brain. “I don’t care if he is the king of the fucking world. I’m not doing this,“ you looked at your dad with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“And that would be my cue to leave," he says, standing up and pushing the stool back to its place. You watched your mom hand him his to-go cup of coffee and kiss him. “You two talk this out.” he runs a hand through your long dark hair before leaving the kitchen.

That sneak. He knew that your mother was tough enough to refuse your attempts at changing their mind.

By the time you heard the car leave, you were pouting at your mother. “Why don’t you marry him? You seem to like him so much.” you offer. 

She rolled her eyes. “Your father means the world to me, I would never do that!” When you scowled at her, she spoke up, waggling her eyebrows. “But if I had to choose, you know I’d pick Channing Tatum as my hypothetical second husband. I mean, he would probably be so good in bed––,”

And that was your cue. “LALALALALALALALALALA!” you sing off tune, palms pressing against your ears so you wouldn’t hear the end of her sentence. You would probably die on the spot if that happened.

You feel the slap on your arm. “Honey, if you’re going to sing, either sing in tune or go somewhere no one can hear you.” She cringed before laughing. “I don’t want to be deaf by the time I see my grandchildren.”

Throwing your head back, you groan. Great. Now she was offending you with your singing skills. You had a fantastic voice that you for a fact knew was better than your mother’s. 

“Wait. Grandchildren?” You pretended to gag. “Now I have to make babies with that guy?!”

Apparently your mother chose to dodge the question because she handed over her phone to you. “What’s this?”

You watch your mother’s lips purse into a thin line for a second, then stretch across her face in a smile.

God. She could be so bipolar sometimes. 

Your eyes narrowed when you noticed the smile was rather…..sneaky. Cunning, even. What did she do?

“Y/N Y/L/N, I give you… your future husband.”

The way she said ‘future husband’ sounded so much like she had finalized your entire life. 

“NO!” you scream. “I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED!”

“Would you just look at the picture––,”

“No. NO.” You point a finger at her before pushing the phone back and standing up, kicking the stool a few feet away from its place. “Hell no. I’m not marrying him. Why should I see him?”

“Y/N JUST LOOK AT THE GODDAMNED PICTURE!” The sudden shift of tone in your mother’s voice shut you up immediately. 

Your mom was totally bipolar.

Reluctantly, you take the phone from her hands and look at the screen with a scowl on your face.

Your breath hitched. You blinked once, then twice, and gulped before your eyes shot up and locked eyes with your mother’s. “Th––This is––,”

Her face was plastered with a Cheshire catlike grin. “Yes, that is.”

Kim Jongin looked nothing like he used to as a kid. “He probably got plastic surgery or something. No way––OW!” you jump when you feel a sharp pain on your arm.

It didn’t matter if he looked like a complete God, in a black tuxedo, the bowtie loose around his collar, his shirt unbuttoned. It didn’t matter that he had a jawline so strong it could cut a feather mid-air, or that tousled chestnut-brown hair and his lean frame.

Any girl who saw him would probably be gasping for oxygen right now, all dramatic and falling in love in a matter of seconds. He was the kind of guy that any woman would gladly open their legs for.

And you hadn’t even met him in person yet.

Boy, did he grow up.

You looked up at the ceiling, hoping God was hearing you. Did you have to put all that sexy when you created him? You scream mentally. He couldn’t possibly be this hot! Or even real!

It had to be Photoshopped. It had to be. He couldn’t look this God-like.

You looked at the photograph once more–– the photograph of your fiancé. The words were sour in your mind. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be married at 20 and to such a God-like creature. The smirk in his face was inevitable, as if he knew what kind of effect he had on women. 

He probably did. 

Even though the picture was of him shaking someone’s hand, a simple gesture, he looked like some male sex God.

Kim Jongin, I revoke you by the name of God, you sexy demon. 

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

You’re not as hot as you think. Though I feel like jumping your bones at the moment.

“I know you like him, Y/N.”

I will NOT fall for you. I repeat, I will not fall for you, Kim Jongin.

You analyzed the photograph for a few moments to find at least one flaw, only to give up and sigh. Leaving the phone on the counter, you rested both your arms on the flat surface. You already knew your mother was probably staring at you with a smug face and you looked up to find just that.

Oh, she knew me, alright. Parents know what’s best for their kids.

You weren’t affected by that picture.

“So….what do you think of him?” She asks again at your silence. You knew she knew that you were having certain thoughts about him. But you were determined to prove her wrong and not fall for his looks.

“Eh,” you look at her in the eyes. “He’s not my type.”

Your mother looked as if she didn’t believe your lame excuse. “You sure about that? Wanna see that picture again? I think he posted some pictures at the beach a few days ago––,”

“NO.” you answer a little too quickly. Him? At the beach? Shirtless, most probably? No. You’d probably end up dying if you saw that. It’s best if you control yourself starting right now. 

You knew your mother was right though. Jongin was someone you were already falling for and that was just after seeing a picture of him. Contradictory to your own words, he was so your type. 

What would happen if you saw him in person?

“Well, I guess there’s no point in me marrying him now, right?” You say, innocently. And for the millionth time that day, your mother rolled her eyes at you.

You fist pumped when she didn’t say anything and left the kitchen. But just before she exited the room, you heard her words that caused you to groan. “We’re meeting their family tomorrow for dinner, so get ready. You don’t want to make a bad first impression of your husband!”

You wanted to dig a hole to China. Who wanted to be tied down at 20? You still wanted to experience life, travel the world, date freely and all that jazz without a ring on your finger.  
It was while you were trying to figure out how to get out of this whole arranged marriage when your older brother Taemin walked in. 

You swear you saw a heavenly glow as he entered the kitchen in his pajamas and beelined towards you and grabbed your uneaten breakfast. 

“How’s my best brother in the world doing?” you bat your eyelashes at him as he stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth.

“I heard everything. I’m not helping you.” 

Dammit. “Tae! Come on!” 

Taemin plopped himself on the countertop, swinging his legs off the edge. “Look. I know the guy. He’s good. He’ll take care of you.” He blew a breath of air at his dyed-lavender bangs to look at you in the eye. “You think mom and dad didn’t ask me before making the deal? Cause then you’d be wrong.”

“They asked you before asking me?!” you nearly screech. “Come on! I’m still young!”

“So is he. And he agreed.”

You scowl for the umpteenth time today. “I don’t wanna,”

He shot a smile at you, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger. “But you’ve gotta. Our dads wants this to happen. For us and the company.” 

“The company?”

“Oops,” Taemin jumped off the counter, grabbing the plate. “I think I’ve said too much,” he laughed before ruffling your hair. “You’re going to get married.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, nope. Nu-uh. I am not getting married to him,” you stated boldly, despite the little voice in your head taunting you.

You like him, and you WILL fall for him, the little voice repeated over and over again. It made you want to bang your head against the wall repeatedly just to shut it up.

“Yes you are!!” your mother’s voice called out from across the house, turning you into a deep shade of red as your brother laughed at you. 

“NO I WON’T!”


	2. Chapter 2

By the next day, you had accepted the inevitable; you were going to get married to some guy you used to hate during most of your childhood.

Not only were you pissed off at Jongin himself, for agreeing to marry you and making you oblige on your part, but also at your parents—especially your father for being the main cause for the whole shindig in the first place.

He did, make a deal, a legal agreement to marry you off to Jongin.

But your dad was a master of dodging your begging and leaving you to deal with the tough woman that was your mother. 

So instead of begging, which didn't apparently work, you opted to give her the silent treatment, hoping to make some sort of impact that she'd revoke this whole marriage idea. Taemin was mad at you for making him the middle man since you were using him to make communication with your mother, despite all his attempts to not involve himself in the middle of you begging him to ask your mother to put a stop to this whole thing. 

The silent treatment didn't work. 

Your mother didn't even pick up that you were mad at her, speaking freely to you without sensing the pure hatred you had in you about everything.

And she thought you were the oblivious one.

Standing now, in front of your vanity within the comforts of your bedroom, the one place you had to yourself, you glance at your own reflection. The spaghetti-strapped black dress your mother had oh-so-cheerily dropped off late last night on your lithe frame.

The dress was, in most standards, beautiful-the material hugging every dip and curve of your body as if it was made for you. The circa 90′s vibe it gave off was quite likeable to you.

You felt good in the dress. Sexy even. But no way were you going to appeal to Kim Jongin.

Turning on your heel, you discarded the dress off your body, undoing the strapless bra you had on and opting to grab a normal one, along with your beat up Levi's and a plain white tank top. The comfortable clothes made you feel better about yourself. 

Why should you risk your comfort just to impress him?

You frowned when the underwire of the bra stuck out from your side, fiddling with the strap to make it sit better on you, swearing to God by the time that the Kim's were gone you would beat the damned thing to a pulp and set it on fire.

A sudden round of laughter echoed through your floor signaled that the Kim's had arrived early, your cue to leave your bedroom.

Ugh.

Just as you opened your door open to leave, your brother Taemin popped his head inside, out of breath, probably after running up the stairs. His lavender locks were messy and stuck to his forehead. You noticed that he had also put on one of his nicer sweaters.

"Why aren't you wearing the dress mom got you?" he gave you a once-over. "I helped pick it out, you know," 

You locked the door behind you before shooting him a weird look. "Since when did you start picking out my clothes?" You say, walking past him, down the stairs, still fiddling with the strap of your bra. 

"Don't you deny, I have good taste in clothes." Taemin pointed a finger at you, to which you nodded, agreeing. "Yes. You do. But my dear sweet brother, I'm not going to dress up for that bloke."

"Fine!" he threw both hands up in the air, annoyed. "Go ahead and make me feel bad about my fashion sense!" causing you to burst out laughing at him, completely miss a step and catapult forward.

The feeling of strong arms around your middle pull you to your feet was too sudden, more that the voice of your brother gasping. Instinctively, your arms immediately went to your savior's shoulders to steady yourself, and as you looked up to utter a word of thanks, your eyes met with the warm brown eyes and the brilliant smile of Kim Jongin.

You blinked a few times to register whether it was actually him.

Good lord, he grew up, and he grew up well.

His lithe frame was accentuated even more with the plain white shirt he had on, both sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a couple of buttons undone, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. Skin even more tan than the last time you ever saw him many years ago, you guessed it was from the vacation she mentioned yesterday morning.

That same lopsided grin from the photograph took over his face, only better because—well—this one was very real. He parted his full lips to speak out, arms still around your middle. "Well, hello," he smiled at you, eyes crinkling in the corners.

A low whistle echoed from a few feet behind the two of you. 

Count on Taemin to find this meet cute.

You could feel the underwire of your bra poking at your side again, making you immediately retract your hands away from his shoulders and fiddle with the strap once more before shoving them down the pockets of your jeans, knowing in the back of your mind he—or any guy—would make a dodgy remark about it  
.   
Jongin couldn't help himself when he noticed your fiddling, eyes flitting over where your bra strap showed. "You need some help with that?" 

Your eyes widened, face contorting into a scowl.

Then you slapped him across the face.

The slap echoed across the den area, where you stood at the end of the stairway, along with Taemin's gasp.

Jongin's eyes were wide open as he stood there with no reaction but his palm over where yours left a red imprint. 

The lack of emotion on his face pissed you off, not solely because he was unaffected and acting like a man but also because you immediately regretted slapping him the second your skin left his.

Get a fucking grip, Y/N!

Jongin stood there, his ears ringing and his palm against the cheek you had just abused. 

Did she just slap me? 

He burst out laughing the second he noticed the look of regret on your face, your expression immediately turning back into a scowl. 

How dare he laugh? Nothing about this was funny!

You wanted to slap him again—harder this time around, but came back to your senses and realized that one of his arms was still around you. Both your hands moved to try and budge his iron-grip, only failing to do so as he pulled you flush against his chest, so close to him you could smell his scent.

He smelled great. Not that you'd tell him.

Your breath wavered in your throat as he leaned in close to you so much your breaths mingled.

What were you going to do if he decided to kiss you? Kiss him back? Or commence beating down the crap out of him with your sneaker?

In the back of your mind you knew you'd probably end up kissing him back, having him so close to you already making you want to grab and kiss those full lips of his.

"You're quite the fireball, aren't you?" he said, his warm breath fanning the expanse of your neck, voice dropping a few octaves low. "I like fierce girls." 

"Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me." you muttered under your breath, putting a stop to each word, hoping is tiny brain could understand by your deathly glare.

Apparently it meant nothing to him, since he opted to laugh. "Oh come on, Y/N. Can't a guy hold his future wife in his arms?"

Was that smirk permanently parked on his face? you wondered, ignoring the adorable little dimple on his left cheek.

"I swear to Jesus, Kim, I will rip your—," You weren't able to finish your sentence because right in that moment you were about to tell him exactly what you were going to do to his smug ass, your mother walked in.

And boy, did the exact same smug look on his face mirrored on hers.

You took that moment to place both palms on his chest, ignoring the feeling of the firm muscles beneath his shirt and shoving him, hard. Luckily he decided to move away from you as his arms loosened.

"Ah, Jongin, I see you've met Y/N already," she smiled slyly. 

Jesus Christ. What wouldn't you give to wipe that look on both their faces.

You groaned internally when you felt Jongin's arm once more around your waist and pull you against him. "She's something, alright," 

"Well, I was going to make some tea for the guests," your mother grinned. "Y/N, why don't you that? Maybe Jongin can help you out." she winked, before leaving the two of you alone. 

As Taemin walked down the stairs and by you, you grabbed his arm with a 'help me' look to which he grinned and patted your shoulder, not before shooting a wink at Jongin.

However, Jongin was only further provoked to smile down at you at the sight of your annoyance at him, laughing at your failed attempt to jut your elbow in his ribcage. The pain didn't go unnoticed however, when he tightened his hold around your body, his long fingers gripping your waist almost painfully. You smiled at your mother before pinching his arm, hard, causing Jongin to yelp and move a few feet away from you.

"OW! What the hell—," he started to say, and then stopped when he noticed the glare you shot him before making a beeline towards the kitchen, rubbing at your side. 

The way that Jongin held you for a second scared the crap out of you, and making you wonder of the chances that he was a rapist or a serial killer like you thought of yesterday morning when the whole ordeal was first explained to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Jongin himself was wondering whether you were a lunatic, rubbing at his own arm, trying to get the blood flowing. He watched you make your way to the kitchen and fill the kettle with water, place it on the stove and pull out the canisters of tea leaves out. 

A low whistling shifted your attention from boiling the water, causing you to spin on your heel and see the one and only Jongin leaning against the frame of the door, hands shoved inside the pockets of his dress pants like some hobo.

Your face immediately contorted into a scowl at his cocky smile. You felt like slapping him to China but at the same time, you wanted to grab him by the collar of that shirt and kiss the life out of him. All this was running through your mind as you shamelessly checked him out.

He probably looked like a God under that shirt, you thought, then quickly discarded it. Let's not go there.

"Checking me out already, Y/N?" He asked as he crossed his arms against his chest, further tightening the slim-fit shirt he had on against his well-built body. A smirk graced Jongin's lips, further annoying you. You stuck a tongue out at him before turning around to focus on making the stupid tea. "Get lost, Kim. Go disappear somewhere else where you're wanted."

"Oh, I think I'll just stay right here," you hear one of the chairs being pulled against the floor, guessing he was going to sit down and watch you with that stupid smirk of his. "I feel so wanted." 

You frowned. "Believe me, you're not wanted here."

"I know you want me, kitten."

Your eyes widened as you stood up straight, then rolled your eyes. Don't let him get to you, Y/N.

Looking over your shoulder, you shot him a forced smile. "Bye." You yanked open the cupboards in the pantry looking for the nice China your mom reserved for the guests and for some reason, couldn't find it. "Where the hell is it?" You got down on your knees and searched through the cabinets.

Jongin leaned back against his chair, checking you out, watching you browse through the racks of spices and whatnot. 

He had to admit, you had grown up well. It was hard for him to not notice your perfectly toned body, and you on your knees, nonetheless.

Sighing dreamily, he recalled that one day during junior soccer practice that he accidentally kicked the ball straight to her face and broke one of her teeth.

It wasn't that other guy she thought who did it. It was him.

He remembered how much you had cried that day, blaming some other kid for kicking the soccer ball at her, when in fact it was him. You noticed some other boy from the team before the ball landed on your face.

Jongin felt a little guilty for that for a long time. That, and bullying you during his years in her middle school over the scar that was left on her face by his own doing until he had to switch schools once their family moved a little farther away from your family's neighborhood. He had ended up going to Taemin's school, an all-boys institution and avoided coming over to your place for years, not wanting to see you again.

He was worried that something stupid would come out of his mouth the second he saw you. Which is precisely what kept happening, even today.

He saw your back straighten immediately as the word 'kitten' left his mouth and he was suddenly curious about you.   
Maybe you weren't as innocent as he thought you out to be. Only for him to find out.

Meanwhile, you took the kettle out of the stove and huffed, partially mad that your mother had probably moved the china to one of the cabinets that was much too high for you to reach. It had to be there; you had double checked all the other cabinets. 

You looked up at the glass cabinet high up on the wall and groaned when you noticed the set. 

Dammit.

Part of you wanted to ask Jongin to get it for you, but your pride was way too high than where the china sat. You opted to stand up on your tiptoes, attempting to open the handle of the cabinet. 

But you failed.

A sudden warmth spread across your back, making you freeze on the spot, eyes widening as your breath hitched in your throat because you knew who was pressing up against you from behind. 

You didn't dare turn around to face him. 

Jongin raised his hand, and you watched it travel up your own stretched out right hand, the journey taking forever. 

You could feel his eyes burning holes from your peripheral vision and you finally breathed out a sigh of relief as his fingers grazed the back of your palm and reached the handle, opening it. His other hand reached out over your shoulder and he grabbed the tray of the china.

"I kinda like this," his voice was husky against your ear as he placed the tray on the counter. Jongin smiled when he saw the goosebumps against your skin-the immediate reaction to his voice-and placed his hand over your limp one, guiding it towards the tea pot.

The warmth left you all too fast when he stepped back to give you the opportunity to continue on with preparing the drink. You exhaled a deep breath you didn't even recall taking, brush your hair back with your fingers and look over your shoulder to look at his smiling face. 

Why was he smiling?

"Don't ever, do that again." Your teeth were clenched, and you tried so hard to looked pissed off though you weren't. You were sure your cheeks were stained red from the blush that creeped up on you when he did, your heart beating faster than ever.

To be completely honest, you didn't want him to leave your side.

"I know you liked it." He winked.

Was it that obvious? You shook the thought away. "I did not like it." you huffed at him, straightening your top, shooting him a scrutinizing look. "Why are you in for this, Kim? Why do you want to be tied down to poor old me for the rest of your life?"

Jongin parted his mouth open to speak. "I'm sorry."

You were confused. "What did you say?"

"It was me." he ran one hand through his already messy brown hair a few times, eyes never leaving the ground. "It was me. I knocked your teeth out."

Your eyes widened, then narrowed in on him. "No, you bullied me. Namjoon was the one who kicked me in the face." You reply.

Jongin shook his head. "You just saw him right before I made the kick and assumed it was him. But it was me." He smiled. "You have to admit, that was a pretty awesome kick for an eight year old."

Awesome my ass, you thought before you punched him straight in the gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs. "What did I ever do to you?" you yelled. 

"It was out of affection!" Jongin laughed, only now his laugh wasn't anything like it was 12 years ago. The 8 year old boy in him was now a 20 year old man, standing before you with that annoying smirk on his face.

"AFFECTION MY ASS!" you screamed. "You ruined my entire childhood. Screw you." You slapped the canister with the tea leaves hard on the counter, shoved spoonfuls of it into the teapot and poured the warm water in. After you finished up, you turned around to see him looking intently at you. "I hate you even more now. This is another reason we should not get married." you say, gesturing between the two of you. "If we act like we hate each other's guts maybe our parents will overthink this whole thing."

"And why would I do that, kitten?" He said crossing his arms against his chest, a smirk on his face immediately after the words leave his mouth, mainly at your sudden posture change.

"Call me kitten one more time and I will cut you balls of while you're sleeping." You shot a cheeky smile at him before walking towards the living room with the tray, making sure that he got your message with your menacing eyes.


	3. 3

“We’re glad to have made this agreement, Y/N.” Jongin’s father said, sipping from his cup of tea, a genuine smile on both his and his wife’s faces. “We know you’d be a good wife for Jongin.”

That sole sentence made your face drop as you stared straight down at the ground, wiggling your sneaker-clad feet, eyes tracing the specks of dirt on the canvas. You could sense—all of you could sense—the dramatic change in the room’s atmosphere. It hung heavy and all you could do was stare at the ground.

The gentle nudge on your side made you look up from the ground at Jongin’s eyes, making you tilt your head a bit to meet his height. A small smile played on his lips, and it looked so genuine that, for a second you thought over the whole ordeal.

Good looking? check.

Smart? check.

Successful? check.

A total moron with intentions to make your life a living hell? Check and CHECK.

You scrunched your nose in disgust at him, causing him to blink at your expression, a look of hurt on his face. Looking back at the ground, you focused on the thick carpet under your feet, following the swirls of the design when you notice Jongin’s finger poke your palm.

“What?” you whispered, annoyed.

His eyes searched your face. “You really hate me, don’t you?”

Your immediate response was, “Yes. I do.”

He looked hurt. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry….

Lying flat on your back, you stared at the ceiling, Jongin’s apology echoing in your ears. 

Were you being too mean to him?

He could have changed. Or not, you recall his smirk. He seemed to always have that cocky look on his face whenever he made eye contact with you. Every word out of his mouth was either insulting or insinuating something perverted.

But that apology….. that left you baffled. 

You could not believe that it was not that poor boy Namjoon but Jongin that hurt you physically all those years ago. 

His apology in the kitchen; you almost forgave him on the spot until he boasted about how good his kick was.

Why was he always saying stupid shit around you just as you were starting to think he had a human heart that could feel compassion?

“URGH!” you groaned before turning over and slamming your face in the pillow. “Kim Jongin what is wrong with you? Why are you so confusing? AND SO FREAKING HOT??!!” you screamed into the material. 

“Y/N, you’d better be home tomorrow night,” your mother said with a stern voice as the Kim’s were about to leave. “No ditching.” 

“Fine.” you groaned silently, ignoring the death stare your mother shot at you and making a face at Jongin, who was standing next to you waiting. You hoped to God he didn’t try to hug you, or even worse; say goodbye.

The only goodbye you wanted from him was if he left your life completely. But apparently not anytime soon, thanks to your parents.

“So, I guess I’m gonna go,” his voice made you look up at his face. Why did he have to be so goddamned tall in the first place? Your neck hurt looking up at him.  
You smiled sweetly. “Try not to die on your way out.” 

Jongin cracked an amused smile at your tone. You were probably still pissed off by his dumb choices of words whenever she was around him. Thank God, now he had time to stop being a jerk to you, if he learnt how to not say the wrong thing in front of you. “I’ll try not to,” he winked at you, earning a scowl in return. “But only for you though.”

His eyes trailed over from your face, completely ignoring your look of disgust and down your lithe frame, not paying attention to his parent’s calling. 

“Are you seriously checking me out right now?”

“Couldn’t help myself. No goodbye hug?” Jongin grinned, the tiny dimples in his cheeks making your heart flutter. No. Stop it. It was just a freaking dimple.   
Why did his smile have to be so goddamned cute?

“No.” you glared at him, crossing both arms across your chest. “Get lost.”

“Well,” Jongin took a step forward. “I guess I’ll have to get a kiss out of you.” His tone was threatening, with a weird look on his eyes that you immediately decided you didn’t like. Freezing on the spot, your eyes widened. “Jongin…I swear…..,”

“Come on, Y/N. Kiss your husband. It’s either you giving me a kiss or I’ll give you one- and I promise, I’ll kiss you wherever I want,” His eyes were glinting mischievously.

By that point you were so scared. “Fine, just-—,” you scowled. “Keep your hands to yourself or I promise I’ll kick you where the sun don’t shine.”

Shit. You were so feisty. Jongin tried not to laugh before leaning in towards her small frame. “Give your hubby a kiss.”

He didn’t notice the look of disgust on your face. “Ugh. Creep.” you mumbled incoherently before pressing your lips against his cheek, and gasped immediately as Jongin’s arm shot forward and grabbed you towards him.

“I hate you Kim.”

“I love you too,” he whispered against your ear. “And soon you’ll be my wife.”

You tried to tug away, but his grip was too strong. “You wish.” 

Jongin nudged his nose against yours, a huge smile on his face. “Looks like I’m already getting to you, huh?”

“Shut up and get lost, Kim.” you threatened before he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, a little closer to your ear. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” his arm left your body and you breathed out a sigh of relief, then scowled at him. “I’d rather take the bus.”

God, she’s stubborn, Jongin thought, laughing. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’m not coming—,”

He smirked, then winked at you. “I’ll be picking you up at 7!” he yelled, cupping both hands over his mouth as he walked away backwards.

“Hold the horses,” Jung Hoseok held up both his hands, voice nearly reaching a screeching point beyond the laptop screen. “You’re getting an arranged marriage?” he screamed, making you cringe. “Like, you’re getting married to some random bloke?”

After tossing and turning in the bed you had decided to get up and Skype Hoseok, knowing for sure that the guy was probably up and you were in desperate need to talk to someone about the whole thing.

“What am I supposed to do now?! you groaned, throwing your head into your hands. 

Jung Hoseok was your best friend from your high school. He had moved in as a transfer student at the time and was incredibly dramatic, being a drama club member and one of the best dancers in the city. With platinum blonde hair that was swept back on the days he “felt hot” or swept to the side on days he “felt like shit”—his words, not your own—Hoseok was the person you ran to anytime you wanted to rant about something. 

The guy was currently shook over the fact that you had just burst the news that you were going to get married. “Oh my God, who’s gonna be my maid of honor now?” he screeched to the point his voice cracked dramatically. You cringed once again. “Wait. Who exactly is this guy?” he asked quietly, stuffing some popcorn in his mouth; probably from after having one of his infamous movie marathons.

You looked up wearily at the screen. “You probably know him. Hell, everyone knows him. Jongin. Kim Jongin.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, Hoseok started coughing, choking on some of the kernels that were flying out of his mouth. You made a face at the screen, disgusted. “EW, HOSEOK!”

He coughed a few times before clearing his throat. “WHAT?!” 

“HIS NAME IS KIM JONGIN! DID YOU NOT HEAR ME??”

Hoseok narrowed his eyes. You could feel the sass through the screen. “Girl. I KNOW WHO HE IS.” he jumped up and down the bed. “OH MY GOD! You’re getting married to Jongin?!! Male sex God?!”

You groaned. “Yes.”

“Let’s switch places.”

“Gladly. Because I HATE HIM.” making sure the hatred was evident in your voice, you screamed at the screen so much so that your brother in the room next to you yelled “SHUT UP!” 

“SORRY!” you screamed back, then brought both your hands together, begging Hoseok. “Please, help me. I can’t stand the dude.”

“Y/N, are you insane?” Hoseok grabbed his tablet close to his face. “GET. MARRIED. TO. HIM. This is the same guy that’s got the brains and looks of a God we’re talking about here. What the fuck, Y/N?”

“I’m still 19!!”

“No,” he waved a finger. “You’re turning 20 soon, basically speaking you’re getting the rest of your life planned out, and the God-given opportunity to be tied down to Kim Jongin.” He ran one slender hand through his dyed locks. “There’s something clearly wrong with you, woman.”

“GAH!” you groaned before slamming the screen down.

You woke up the next day after having dreams of escaping the wedding day, from changing your identity to getting plastic surgery or fleeing off to Mexico. After getting up and getting yourself together for the day to get to work, your mother informed you that there was an engagement party happening in three weeks.

Three weeks. 

Three weeks for you to try and get out of this whole wedding plan. If you were lucky.

It was scary to think about the engagement, let alone the wedding. Being surrounded by hundreds of people, you guessed, since both yours and his families had a lot of friends and extended family. It gave you anxiety to even think about standing up there in an altar with Jongin ready to exchange vows.

Ignoring the ringing of your phone, you continued stuffing cereal in your mouth, mind wandering over everything. Whoever who was calling could wait, but the loud ringing got so annoying to the point where your mother slammed the damned thing in front of you. “Answer it!” 

You stretched yourself and answered the phone. “New phone, who dis?” you mumbled with a mouthful of cereal. 

“Morning kitten.”

The cereal in your mouth spewed out, spraying milk all over the kitchen counter. “JONGIN?!” you yelled over your mother’s disgust over the mess you had just made. Out of all people, did he have to call you first thing in the morning?

The laughter at the end of the line made you groan. “Did you just choke on breakfast?”

Wait. How did he get that? 

“Turn around, kitten.” 

Spinning on your heel, you looked outside through the living room window, vision panning past your brother and your father watching the daily news to the figure standing beyond the glass of the window. 

Jongin was at your house. Outside, leaning against the hood of his sleek black car in a similar shaded suit.

The first thing out of your mouth was. “How did you get my number?”

“Taemin gave it to me.” he said, pointing at the sitting figure of your brother. You took the opportunity to walk straight at Taemin, grab the cushion and smack his head.  
“Good that you’re already up. I was going to personally pull you out of bed and get you dressed.” 

You shot Jongin a death glare. “You’re creepy, Kim.”

“And you’re sexy. What’s your point?”

You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, almost giggling. Good God what have you come to? You had not thought he’d be able to make you fucking laugh.

Opting to snort instead of giggle—because you had a reputation to uphold—you had reached out to grab a glass of water to chug when he replied with, “I’m glad I can finally get a laugh out of you.”

Jongin hung up on you with that, as you stared at him through the window, twirling the key ring holding the keys to his car and nearly drop the thing, making you snort again. What a dork.

Hopefully you’d be able to sneak out and get to the bust stop. 

Grabbing your purse and wallet, you quickly made your way out of the back door of the kitchen, praying to God that Jongin wouldn’t see you sneaking out, except you walked straight into him and bumped against his chest.

“What the—DAMMIT!” you cursed when you saw his smug face. Up close, he was even more handsome in his black suit, white shirt beneath the blazer with the usual few buttons undone with no tie. Jongin’s whole aura screamed elegant yet rough, noticing the stubble on his jaw.

You took note of how his eyes widened a bit as he shamelessly checked you out, practically eye-raping him as were you. 

“Trying to sneak out?” 

A scowl took over your face. It seemed to be your permanent reaction to whenever a word left his stupid mouth. “Ugh.” you gave up. “Yes. Shut up and get in the car, Kim.”   
Just as he grinned and opened his mouth to say something, the two of you heard a loud bang. Both you and Jongin turned towards your house to see your mother, smiling widely.

Oh God.

“Let’s go, Kim,” you whisper shouted and tried to pull him by the sleeve of his blazer. 

Instead, like all the other times he did the exact opposite of what you wanted and went “Hey, Mrs. Y/L/N!”

“Nice to see the two of you, together, this is just what I wanted.” your mother laughed before shooting you a wink and going back inside. You groaned internally, contemplating whether or not if you were still mad at her for arranging this whole wedding as you were still trying to give her the silent treatment.

You knew it was a waste.

Turning on your heel and grabbing Jongin’s hand, much to his surprise, you pulled at him. “Let’s go,” you repeated, pulling at his palm roughly.

This time he didn’t protest—which you were grateful for—and let you lead him to the car. You yanked the door open and got inside, immediately noticing Taemin waving at you from the window of the living room, to which you flipped him off.

The sound of Jongin’s contagious laughter rang at your ears, and you didn’t dare look at him, knowing you’d probably end up laughing with him, especially if your eyes caught his adorable dimples.

A moment of silence passed, most of which you were staring outside the window-or anywhere but Jongin, until he broke it. “Your mom seems to like me.”

“Yeah. She’s in love with you.” you mumbled, crossing both arms across your chest. With no doubt she was still probably spying in on you two. You just wished he’d get on with it and start driving.

“I am the loveable type. I’m sure you’ll grow fond of me soon,” he chuckled when you scowled at him, ignoring the sight of that stupid cute dimple of his.

You decided against your plan to avoid looking at him and try scrutinize his driving skills to find some flaw you could use against your parents, but surprisingly, he was a good driver. 

He started the engine, roaring the massive car to life before throwing a hand behind your seat and looking outside the rear-view as he steered the car gracefully out of your driveway.

You forgot how to breathe, watching his side profile as he took the car in reverse.

Jongin was doing the most casual thing ever—reversing out of your driveway—but it seemed to have this effect on you. You could feel his breath fanning against your neck as you watched him concentrate on steering the vehicle.

“Yo,” a hand waved in front of your face, snapping you back to reality. An amused smile played on his lips. “Did you get that?”

You gulped. “Uh… what?”

“I asked you where you wanted to go….?” he grinned, clearly amused by the fact that you were just checking him out.

“Um….,” you mumbled, forgetting for a second where you worked. “Crap. Uh, CLC arts studio. Downtown.” you replied.

He took a turn to the right, taking the faster route and you prepared yourself for a steep turn. Instead, you were surprised at the smooth turn he took.

Why did he look so hot while driving?

“Why, thank you kitten, for the compliment,” Jongin smirked at you and you stiffened, realizing you had just spoken out loud.

Shit.

You were giving in to him slowly. Come on Y/N, cover it up.

“Don’t get too excited, Kim. Just one compliment.” you narrowed your eyes at him, to which he just grinned. He probably knew you were lying. Hell, you both knew you were lying.

Great.

The car skidded to a gentle halt as you noticed the stoplight. “So….. you’re an artist now?” he looked over at you, and you blushed.

Why? You had no idea.

Something was clearly wrong with you today. “Yeah.” you mumbled, looking away from him; anything but him.

You could hear his fingers drumming against the steering wheel along to some rhythm you couldn’t follow along to. “What kind of art?”

“I’m an industrial designer. From cars to home appliances to manufactured goods.” You look at him. “My job is to weigh factors like function, aesthetics, and production cost, and propose designs to project managers from companies that want to work with us.” You look back down at your demented hands, recalling using a hot glue gun a few days ago to make a scale model for a new office this company had you working on. 

It was your third year at CLC, after first joining in while you were in college studying Industrial Design. You worked mostly from home and had your little art shed in the backyard with your own supplies. The studio had asked you to come in today to talk with the project managers from the company you were planning on building a new office with.

The job was good, the pay was decent enough for you to support your family financially. It was the least you could do for your mother with your dad and Taemin who worked as a choreographer at one of the biggest entertainment agencies to help her out around with managing the house.

You were so busy caught up in your mind that you didn’t even realize that Jongin had parked at your destination. The familiar building of your office towered outside your view from the window as you noticed some people walking out.

“Well, I guess I should get going,” you unclicked your seatbelt and grabbed your purse to see Jongin staring at you intently and blushed.

“So, I’ll call you later?” he asked you—more like stated because both he and you knew he would call you anyway even if you objected. 

You huffed, a few hairs in front of your face flying upwards. “Seriously. How did you get my number?”

“Like I said, Taemin gave it to me.”

“Bullshit. I’d bet my job on you, you stalked me.”

“Think whatever you want of me. Bye, kitten.”

You smirked. The way he said it—the way it rolled off his tongue—made you feel a certain type of way.

Yes. You, Y/N just admitted to yourself that you liked to be referred to as ‘kitten’ by your unavoidable fiancé Kim Jongin. Trying not to show him that you actually liked it, you sighed. “You’re a pervert. Bye, Kim.”

You shut the door close, and glanced at him pulling out his phone before turning around and walking towards your office, a nagging feeling on the back of your mind that someone was watching you, so you turned—and saw Jongin’s car, still parked, and his eyes on you.

He hopefully didn’t catch the blush on your cheeks as you marched inside quickly, and peeked outside and watched him wait until you had stepped in to leave.  
For some reason, you felt touched by the gesture. You smiled to yourself before your eyes widened.

Oh God, he was growing on you.


	4. 4

"Well, well, well, look who's here," a melodious voice rang from behind your desk where you were at, tapping away on the keyboard. Your hands halted in the midst of their attack on the plastic keys, a sly smile taking over your face before looking over your shoulder.

You knew that voice all too well.

Jessica Jung.

The smile only grew into a grin when you saw your other best friend standing by the doorway to your office, both hands on her hips and looking all sassy. 

Jessica's waist-length brown hair was let loose today, flowing past her shoulders, her slender figure clad in a white tank top tucked into a pair of jeans.

"'Sup," you saluted her with your hand and a cheeky smile.

"'Sup'?" she cocked her head to the side. "That's all you've got to say to your best friend after two whole weeks?"

You grinned right before she walked over and crushed you with a death hug.

Jessica worked right here with you at your office, as the secretary to your boss, managing new tasks and assignments to the designers such as yourself. The two of you had met each other 3 years ago when you started your job here and clicked immediately.

She had been away on a two week holiday with her husband. "I should be asking you the same thing. I thought you weren't going to be here until Sunday," you said when she finally loosened the death grip on you, gasping for air.

"Yeah. Tyler got a call from work and then I got an email from the Dragon and, eh," Jessica waved her hand away, annoyed. "Work comes first."

"Speaking of the Dragon," you started, then looked over your shoulder at the empty office of your boss. "Where the hell is he?"

The Dragon. Also known as Kwon Jiyong. The guy seemed scary as hell with his permanent bitch face, but at times he was such a mushy pile of goo the office questioned whether he was bipolar or not. For someone who was usually always in the office working, the man seemed to have not stepped in at all today.

Jessica shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is the stack of paperwork on my desk. So," the brunette's eyes gave you a once-over. "Something happened, and you're not telling me. You look different. Dish."

Your face dropped open in shock.

Because in that second you realized you had completely forgotten to call Jessica and tell her about the stupid arranged marriage and all your crazy bipolar feelings towards Jongin.  
You also realized that Jessica would beat the living crap out of you for not calling her the minute you found out. 

Oops.

"How much do you know?" you cringed, awaiting a slap, or a scratch, even a punch. Your eyes met Jessica's confused ones.

"I was just kidding," she started to laugh, then her expression shifted to one of shock. "Something really did happen!!!" she slapped your arm, making you cringe in pain. "OW! Jess!" you rubbed at your abused arm. 

The office wasn't exactly the best place to explain everything, you decided, knowing that every wall had ears attached to them—well, not really, but the walls were all glass. Someone could read your lips or something. 

The last thing you wanted to happen was your whole office getting to know that you were going to get married to lawyer extraordinaire, Kim Jongin. Everyone knew who he was. You despised that attention that would come along with the news breaking out.

"Can we talk about this at lunch?" you said, closing your laptop and grabbing your keys and purse. "I have nothing to do until I get an email back." 

Jessica's eyes were narrowed in on you, scanning your whole body for a full minute. "Is it me or you look hotter than the last time I saw you?"

You frowned. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." she chirped before poking your butt. "Who made you want to work out?" Jessica followed you and walked outside the office room as you continued to shoot her a weird look. "Tell me there's a guy involved?"

Pssht. 

"I work out because I want to," you huffed. "On a completely separate note, are you sure you're not secretly a lesbian or something because I swear you're starting to freak me out."  
"Bitch please, I'm married." Jessica held up her left hand showing off the impressive solitaire that sat on her ring finger, laughing at you. 

"Doesn't mean you're straight," you teased back.

"Girl, out of all people, you know I'm straight."

Jessica was right. The woman was straight as a ruler, and loved her husband dearly. And you knew that because you were the third wheel to them for the longest time, even after their marriage. Tyler Kwon, Jessica's boyfriend of 2 years and husband of one was a millionaire that half your office was jealous of. She didn't even have to go do a job when the girl could just stay at home. The two shared such a beautiful relationship, and you were there for most of it. Jessica and Tyler carried such a strong bond it got you thinking....

The train of your thoughts came to an abrupt halt when you felt Jessica poking your side, making you squirm. "Don't think so much. You're on a lunch break. Relax," she laughed.

It took a little less than five minutes for the two of you to reach the café that situated a few feet away from the entrance to your office. Most of your co-workers and staff hung out at this particular spot. A warm gush of air laced with the smell of fresh coffee and pastries engulfed you as Jessica pushed the door open to the establishment. The scent gave you a surge of energy; nothing smelt better than coffee.

Except, maybe Jongin.

Why were you thinking about him right now? You shook the thought out of your head, recalling how good he smelled whenever he leaned into you like this morning and last night.

"I almost forgot," you looked at Jessica with a questioning look. "I texted Tyler. He and one of his friends will be joining us for lunch." she said, with a grin on her face and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh no. What did she do?

Before you could respond, your best friend beat you to it. "I'm sure you'll like him. He's insanely hot, but he's apparently getting married to some girl. You can still check him out though," she winked at you before leading you to the far left corner of the café. 

You frowned at her words. Something was up with her. That look was too suspicious.

Jessica made a beeline to the table where Tyler sat, with another guy who sat across to him with his back facing you. As she leaned in to kiss her husband you made a face. Ugh. Those two were far too cute for your salty self to handle.

"Missed you, Jess. Hey, Y/N." he waved at you and you shot a friendly smile at him.

"Hello, kitten."

Oh.

Oh, no. 

NO.

The color drained from your face as your eyes darted to your right, where the 'friend' Jessica had mentioned was at.

And there sat a grinning Kim Jongin. 

His blazer was off, still in the crisp white shirt he had on this morning with both sleeves rolled up to the elbows. One of his arms was slung across the back of the empty chair next to him.

"What are you doing here?!" 

As usual, he completely ignored you and did the unthinkable- he stood up and dragged the empty chair beside him out from under the table and gestured for you to sit.

You froze on the spot a few seconds, processing what just happened. Tyler's 'friend' was Jongin? How did they know each other? And did he just pull out the chair for you? You wondered whether he had a concussion or worse, if it was really him.

Deciding to sit down, you stayed quiet when Jongin grabbed the chair with both hands and pushed you closer to the table. When you looked up you were met with two curios sets of eyes.

"Wait. You two know each other?" Jessica narrowed her eyes at you, a finger pointing between you and Jongin. 

You took a deep breath. She was going to kill you. So she didn't know.

Before you opened your mouth to speak and sugarcoat the news so that Jessica didn't kill you later on the day, you were interrupted by the laugh of Jongin. "Yeah." he said, sliding an arm around your shoulders. "This is her."

Tyler's eyes nearly popped out of his head, astonished as if though you had just spewed forth a pack of cards out of your mouth. 

Jessica was still confused. "What's going on?"

You let out a deep breath. Oh no. Here it comes. You were going to be physically abused for not telling her about the wedding.

From your peripheral vision you noticed Jongin open his mouth to say something before you elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a warning look. He didn't even flinch at the sudden action. Why did he have to be such a man?

"Y/N is engaged to Jongin!" Tyler yelled, motioning between the two of you.

Jessica's eyes were as wide as saucers for a second until they zeroed in on you.

Then you felt a relatively large sting on your shin. "OW!" you yelped, immediately realizing that she had just kicked you in the shin. "What the fuck?!"

"I should be asking you the same thing!" she waggled a finger at you. "You have some explaining to do, missy."

"I swear I was gonna tell!" you shouted. 

"Does Hoseok know?"

Jessica's stare was so hard you felt it in your soul. "Yes?" 

That was enough for her to grab a fork and lunge at you. You had to act fast. So you leaped over to Jongin's lap, away from your best friend, both arms going around his neck and praying he didn't push you back to your seat.

It was confusing to you whether the fact you were in Jongin's arms made you feel somewhat safe, with his strong arms wrapped around your middle, with the bonus fact that Jessica was unable to kick you in the shins again.

A few silent moments of death stares passed until Jongin slowly placed you back on your seat, all the while the two men watched your staring match. They probably thought you two were lunatics.

"I swear, I was going to tell you, but you were on vacation!" you reasoned, earning a little huff from Jessica.

"Fine. I won't kill you." she said, and you let out a sigh. "I just can't believe it! You're getting married!" she clapped both hands eagerly. "But do not think I'm done with you just yet. You have explaining to do back at the office." 

You nodded furiously. At least you were safe now. You truly wanted to tell her everything, from how annoying he was to your history with him to your messed up feelings for him.  
It turned out that Jongin's firm were handling Tyler's entertainment company's legal stuff, the same company your brother Taemin was a choreographer at. Even more coincidentally, the three men were friends back from the all-boys institution they attended during their high school years.

You were amazed at how close knit everyone in your life was, wondering whether you would have met Jongin at the parties Tyler threw at the end of every year that you always happened to busy on. What would have happened if you had gone? Would you have gotten along with Jongin? Or naturally hated his guts?

The waiter came to the table with your orders and everyone soon dug into their food but still managed to keep up a small conversation. You couldn't help but pay attention to the two guys talking, noticing how professional Jongin sounded when discussing legal matters. His left arm was still slung across the back of your chair and every time you tried to push it away he'd resume position. 

You were pretty hungry by the time the food was set down in front of you, considering the simple breakfast of cereal from that morning- or lack thereof after you spit nearly half of it out.

In a way, Jongin was the reason you were hungry as a pig that day.

Scarfing down your salad as quickly as you could was a bad idea bc by the time you were stabbing at the last few pieces it was a soggy mess of greens. Frowning down at the plate, you pushed it away, suddenly not feeling like eating it anymore, noticing the chicken sandwich on Jongin's plate he hadn't gotten into.

You frowned at Jessica. Stupid idiot making you eat salad to try and be healthy. As if you were some rabbit to live off greens.

Your hand was itching to attack Jongin's food, so much so that you snapped and stabbed at the piece he had just cut up and shoved it in your mouth before he could react. You even moaned out at the first bite due to the sheer yumminess, regretting going along with Jessica's stupid health diets.

Jongin's ears perked when your moan hit his ears, eyes widening with an amused smile playing on his lips at the sight of you going to town on his lunch. The look he was giving you was for the most part, amused, but a hint of lust was visible to you as your cheeks burned red. 

"Mind explaining why you're attacking my lunch?" his voice was low. 

You shrugged. "What's yours will soon be mine, honey," you stated before blushing at the affectionate word you'd just blurted out. Apparently it made Jongin happy because he grinned brightly at you.

It was only then you felt his lips against your cheek and before you could protest he moved away from you, still grinning. "What's mine is yours, kitten." he winked.  
You take one piece of food from him and he thinks its his shot to kiss you whenever he wanted. Nu-uh. 

"AW!" Jessica cooed at the both of you and nudged Tyler, who was munching at his own sandwich. "Look how cute they look! This is so cool, my best friend marrying yours," she rambled on, making you wonder whether there was a shut up button you could stab at.

Jongin could sense your discomfort, because he pushed his plate towards you. Looking upwards at his eyes, you noticed the small smile on his face. "You can have it."

You raised an eyebrow. What was happening? Why was he being so nice? "Are you being serious?"

He nodded. "I'm not that hungry, anyway." he gestured at the plate.

For a full minute, you contemplated why the man was giving you his food. Weren't men overprotective over their food and cars? Or was that just a stereotype you made the choice to believe?

Taking the plate you shot him a half-smile. It was really nice of Jongin. So nice, that you felt your heart beat faster.

Heck. It was a simple gesture. But it made you feel something.

What made him change?

Tyler and Jessica left shortly afterwards, leaving you and Jongin to dine alone. The air was awkward between the two of you as you concentrated on eating the sandwich bit by bit while Jongin awkwardly waited until you finished.

You were still confused over why he was being so nice towards you, recalling his behavior towards you at middle school. At the time, he seemed like the guy who'd get all protective over his things. The small gesture made your heart waver—just a bit.

Jongin watched you quietly, noticing the pink blush on your cheeks. He knew that his actions had maybe—just maybe—warmed your feelings towards him. Quietly, he texted his secretary that he wouldn't be making it back to the office. Thank God he held a high position at the firm so he could ditch work. He'd probably have to work late tonight, but he didn't want to miss a moment he could make a good impression on you.

By the time you were done it was pouring rain outside, and you let Jongin cover you with his jacket as the both of you rushed to get inside his car. The streets were packed, roads jammed due to the weather. If this was another time, you would probably be mad to be stuck inside a car sharing the same air with Kim Jongin. But today, you didn't mind. 

He kissed your cheek as usual—just like all the other times—before you bid him farewell with a curt "Bye,", with a small smile on your face. And just like that morning, he waited until you got inside the house.

You knew it because you looked outside the window.

You saw him run a hand through his hair before covering his smile and driving away. 

Leaning back against the door, you slowly slid to the ground until you sat down on the floor, palm against your chest. That smile? Jesus, your heart was pounding. What was happening?


End file.
